


Fairyland

by Master_Of_Ceremonies



Category: Cabaret - Kander/Ebb
Genre: Canon-Typical Depression, I take my depression out on character I love The Fanction, I'm so sorry, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Max is an asshole, the emcee has Issues, the kit kat klub is basically a big family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 18:53:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13817337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Master_Of_Ceremonies/pseuds/Master_Of_Ceremonies
Summary: "It's like Fairyland." Rosie had said once, as she and Lulu caked makeup onto their faces with efficient strokes.





	Fairyland

"It's like Fairyland." Rosie had said once, as she and Lulu caked makeup onto their faces with efficient strokes.  
"What?"  
"Fairyland. The club," Her brow furrowed and her eyes dark. "Everything is beautiful, and you sing and dance the days away. Then you look down at the food you've been eating and realize it's horse shit, and the singing seems sinister, but now you can never leave. The world outside has moved on without you." Lulu had laughed then.

She wasn't laughing now.

If the Kit Kat Klub was fairyland, then the Master of Ceremonies was their laughing leader. Oberon and Tatiana all at once, clad in garters and face awash with stage-light and makeup. Politics? A change in leadership? Another war? None of it mattered here. Not in Fairyland.  
'So longer as our leader dances on,' the little fairies mused, 'so will we.'

Except the Master of Ceremonies wasn't dancing tonight. Not like he normally did. His movements lacked the fluidity, the ease they normally had. His jokes seemed forced, his normal smile twisting into an angry sneer. He seemed a flame, no longer controlled but burning into an unstoppable blaze. He smelled of gin and cigarettes, and fled to his room above the klub the second the show ended. No usual lingering and flirting, no grandiose exit. 

This was rare. Even on the rare nights he did not partake in the, ah, other way many of the performers at the klub made money (they were starving, dying, what did it matter if they sold their bodies, their souls, for a few marks?), he would often linger. Sweet talk a young costumer into buying him a drink, or just pester the band. Perhaps it was the flashes of red leering back at his from the biceps of the audience, or perhaps it was the long-suppressed anger in his heart that made him flee from the stage. Whatever the reason, it did not matter. The ruler of fairyland had fled, and the poor fairies knew not what to do.

It's been four hours. The club is closed now, garters and makeup swapped for street clothes and cigarettes. Outside, a steady drip from the sky onto worn cobblestone paints the world in blues and greys. And the fairies are getting anxious.

They talked in frantic whispers, the boys and girls of the kit kat klub, wondering what to do. Bobby declared they leave him alone, disguising the fear in his heart as compassion, and Victor nodded vigorously. Lulu clutched Rosie's hand as she announced they should go to him, talk to him. Frenchie was silent as she thought of Sally, what would Sally do. Herman was crying. Max had had enough. He was at his wits end with the twittering and fussing, and the goddamn pouting. His heart was smeared and poisoned by the red the Emcee feared.

He pushed his way past the frightened fairies, and ascends the iron staircase that leads to the room above the club.  
"He'll sort this out." Helga says hopefully, glancing at the other dancers. "Right…?" Frenchie and Victor share a grim look, but can't find it in them to voice what they fear. They've seen the hate on Max's face, smelled the corruption on his brand-new suits. 

A door slams upstairs, and Helga winces. They hear yelling, the Emcee's voice shrill in harmony with Max's barking. The words they say are incomprehensible, but the emotions behind them are clear. Rosie's hand tightens in Lulu's as the yelling crescendos. The sound of flesh striking flesh hangs heavy and sudden in the air, followed by a suffocating silence. 

The fairies hurry up the stairs, the sound of their footfalls harshly breaking the silence.  
"Em!" The Emcee's eyes are wide with shock and anger, and were those tears in his eyes? No, they couldn't be. His hand was at his cheek, lighting touching the red mark from where Max had hit him. The boys and girls of the kit kat klub were on Max in an instant, yelling and gesticulating as the Emcee slunk into the shadows. 

"Em." He feels a warm hand on his shoulder, and turns to see Helga staring at him worriedly. He watches her eyes scan his narrow, almost starving frame and decide to settle on his left eyebrow. The way her eyes skid past the bruises on his body and scars -some red and new-on his arms, the raised veins and smell of alcohol that float around him. His lip twitches at that, finding her hesitance to meet his eyes almost humorous. "Are you okay? Seriously." He laughs then, as he wipes his eyes on his sleeve. This just distorts his already messed up makeup, making his face appear almost ghoulish.

"The world Is ending, leibling. Whether I'm okay or not should be the least of your worries."

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a fic exploring the fact that throughout the end of the show, the Emcee has various bruises all over him. This monster happened. I'm so sorry.
> 
>  
> 
> I may continue this if people want


End file.
